


Duat Glowing

by ecotone



Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: (very minor CoO spoilers), Gen, Six Fronts (sort of), Time Shenanigans, pre-D2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 00:38:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12876465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecotone/pseuds/ecotone
Summary: Old memories and new, all intertwined.A trip to the Forest goes well. Sagira still likes home more.





	Duat Glowing

“I don’t like this,” Sagira says. Her shell is half-cocked back, like she’s listening for the creaking of machinery even though the Vex aren’t here. She dips down to Osiris’ shoulder, the long fabric of his hood shadowing her almost completely. “One day, we’re going to get ourselves stuck in a causal loop,” she huffs, “and then you’ll hear me say ‘I told you so’ for an eternity.” 

“We will be fine,” Osiris says, glancing at her as he walks through frozen Fallen, slipping through long blue streaks of line-rifle fire, the half-formed blasts of rockets. A crouched Walker’s beam throws red light onto his boots as he climbs up one of its shimmering legs, tilts its cannon away from the Third Approach and towards a pack of Dregs. Sagira hums, amused and vengeful all at once, her mood somewhat lightened. This work is dangerous, and she knows it, but there’s satisfaction in what they’re doing. He pushes a gentle pulse of appeasement at her, saying we-were-fine-the-first-time, Six-Fronts-was-bloody-but-the-Light-prevailed. 

Osiris floats down, feet making no imprints in the cold mud. Sagira wanders away to wreak her own havoc. She finds a Vandal in shimmering stealth, pokes at its armor until the camouflage cracks like glass, nudges its shockblade so that it will just miss the Hunter it’s taking aim at. 

“Good enough,” she hums, though neither Osiris nor this Guardian can hear her. The rest of the pack of Fallen is still nearly-invisible, but she learned a long time ago how much tampering she can get away with before the Vex catch the aberrations in their data. This Hunter looks resourceful, though; judging by the Captain-cloak and notched gauntlets, they’ll be alright. Even if none of this really matters, even if it’s all data and code, it’s a nice thought. 

“Find him yet?” Sagira calls, half-teasing. She knows where Osiris is heading just as well as he does, because she’s the one that revived him three times in that same place: the Fifth Approach, the largest battlefield, the bloodiest front. After the fighting was done she’d lost half her shell and Osiris’ robes were so short they looked like civilian clothes, his gloves bleached grey-white-blue with ether and ash. 

When she catches up she finds the same sight she’d seen then, all strewn bullets and flung-up dirt, scorched earth and long crackling knives broken off in bloodied armor. There should be Light everywhere, bright enough to make her feel like she’s underneath the Traveler and looking up, but in its place is cold elemental energy and streamlined Vex logic making up for what it can’t replicate. 

The scene they’d walked in on is the set-up to her favorite story from Six Fronts- or least favorite, depending on whether or not she’s actually there, dealing with Fallen claws and shock grenades. Not-Osiris is surrounded, not-Sagira nowhere to be found- in reality, she’d been diving in and out of transmat, but the Vex never bothered to replicate Lightless Ghosts in their battle-simulations. At the center of the ring of Fallen is a Captain, almost as large as a Baron, Devils cape burned and torn. 

Osiris circles the scene, finds who he’d been looking for- a Titan, white armor and purple chroma, behind the Captain and looking for an opening. Sagira creates one, pushing a few Dregs out of the way to make a corridor wide enough to burst through. She pushes herself back up to the front of the crowd in time to see Osiris’ half-smile as he pulls at his hood. 

For good measure, Sagira sends a wave of well-worn affection towards him. “Ready?” She asks, more excited for the results than she’s been since they went back to Olympus Mons. The recordings from the Fronts are still in her memory banks, perfectly sound, but there’s something about watching everything fold out in front of her again. “We should go kill some actual Fallen soon,” she adds, before she can get too sentimental. 

Osiris nods absently, spins the runes on his odd device until they align back in the order that opens a humming portal at the mouth of the Fourth Approach. The Fallen still can’t see either of them, but Sagira wedges herself between Osiris’ neck and shoulder all the same.

In the ring of Dregs and Vandals, not-Osiris lifts a flaming hand, whirls around to decimate the Fallen behind him. An ether-brave Dreg rushes to knife him and he palms it in the chest, sends it back brimming with Solar not-Light so that it explodes in the middle of the pack. 

The Devil Captain roars in guttural Eliksni, charges towards not-Osiris’ back. He jumps up as the Titan bursts through the line, glowing shield sending the Fallen sprawling backwards. The shield is buried in the Captain’s back before it manages to turn, not-Osiris flinging a grenade down on its head for good measure. 

Osiris turns before Sagira can see the rest, but she knows it anyway. Time freezes again, and they walk back to the Fourth Approach. Sagira meanders out from under his hood to explore, again, now that she’s safe from shrapnel and arc. 

“We need a better categorizing system,” she says, halfway across the pass. “Not-Saint-14 is a mouthful.” 

Osiris hums, the same noise he always made when a freshly-Risen came to him with ridiculous questions that ate up time that could be used drafting theories on Vex gateways. “Ask him,” he says, idly adjusting the trajectory of a shock cannon so that the charge blows apart a nearby tree. 

“He’s the one that came up with it in the first place,” Sagira complains, groaning. “All he’ll do is say that we need to focus on ‘repelling the Darkness’ and ‘securing hope for humanity.’” 

“And he’ll be right,” Osiris tells her, looking over at her again. 

“That’s a new one,” she says. There’s a reason they’re both here now instead of the Tower, and they both know how ignored the City went in their search for truth. Osiris rolls his eyes anyways, because that argument is well-worn enough that it’s lost any semblance of meaning, and walks the final few yards to the glowing portal. He steps through, and Sagira follows. The transmat makes her dizzy like it always does- it’s the Vex technology, unnecessarily bending reality. 

The Basin is the same as it always is, glowing lava and shining brass. Osiris tests the warmth that sits at the base of his skull anyway, flames spiraling down his arms and across his back. Sagira can feel the Light again, pure and bright and everywhere. 

Osiris sighs, allowing his tiredness to creep in now that they’re both out of such dangerous territory. She checks the time: 09:18:56, six days after they entered the Forest. 

“Mail,” someone calls, and cool Void hits her sensors, mingling with the warmth of lingering Solar. 

“Home sweet home,” she says. “The Light and a Titan, what more could you need?” 

Osiris unwinds his mask. “We’ll stay for a while. There’s no need to return before this data is sorted through, and that won’t be until the next sub-cycle.” He sets his helmet down on the stone-carved table, places his gauntlets beside it. 

Another Ghost meanders in, purple shell striped with white and lavender. “Morning,” she says, rounded shell-tips spinning slowly. “Glad to see you both back alive. There’s still coffee sitting out, if you want any of it- I wouldn’t bother, though. Too much sugar.” 

The Void ebbs back into Sagira’s ambient Light. “It’s fine, Fina,” Saint half-yells from the other room, staticky faux-annoyance making the ends of his words hazy. “Sagira, come listen to these transmissions.” 

Fina rolls her optic and floats through the doorway; Sagira follows, laughing. 

Saint’s sitting Titan-straight in his chair, terminal resting on his legs. His chestplate is on, but everything else has been stripped down to plasteel underarmor, dark grey instead of stark white and purple. Fina bumps into the side of his head and the violet light of his optics switches on. 

“The Cult’s reaching out,” he says. “Asking for an official blessing of the Trials.” 

“The Trials will continue regardless,” Osiris says, making his way from the side room to the mat that’s sometimes used for meditation and sometimes as a storage spot for books. “The Guardians are too interested, even without the City’s approval. The Lighthouse will stay lit long after we have passed- Guardians follow the call for glory. It is not the Cult, or the legend.” 

“Cheery,” Sagira mumbles, scanning the transmission data. It’s from the edge of the Reef, which stopped being a surprise long ago. 

Saint shifts, plastic-metal joints snapping. “The City is learning to stand on its own now. Less time guarding the Wall means more time chasing rewards. No matter what that means for the City itself, or its people.” 

“Enough gloom,” Fina sighs, dropping down into Saint’s lap. His throatlights glow an amused pink. "Nothing but death and dark futures." 

“We saw Six Fronts today,” Sagira says, resting on the mat with her pieces circling her core. “Went the same way it did in reality, Captain and all. More fun to watch when you’re not worried about getting smashed to bits by some Fallen.” 

Devil Captain to Devil Kell, she thinks. Fallen scattered, Hive gods killed, Vault torn open- and all the while she was here, watching, so far removed from the same prophecies Osiris had been repeating for centuries. If she returned to the City, the Tower, would she even recognize it? From the cluster of buildings it’d started as to now, a bastion of hope and Light- 

Too sentimental, she thinks. “Maybe next time we’ll go back to when you were first Risen,” she tells Osiris, “and your robes caught fire.” 

Osiris sighs, and Saint laughs even though he’s heard the story a hundred times before, and somewhere in the Spires the Lighthouse glows bright. Here, in the middle of a Basin bright with molten fire, exile doesn’t feel like the curse it’s supposed to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Who needs studying for finals when you can write something that'll get jossed next week? Plus, it's an opportunity to mess around with Osiris' & Sagira's characterization. 
> 
> Plugging my tumblr, because I haven't in awhile: @allteacher ! come say hey/send prompts/yell about the Crota fireteam/etc. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! <3 Comments are appreciated, etc.


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